Out Of This World: 5th Century B.C. Attic White-Ground Lekythos

The Ancient Greeks used to think 
The soul was a moth, a small 
Bird or butterfly that escaped 
From the body once 
A mortal had left his mortal 
Existence behind; as such it was 
A favorite motif of many 
An Attic white-ground painter— 
Take this piece for example, 
Where we see the little winged one 
In question has just made his exit 
And is now perched upon the head 
Of the upright dearly departed 
Prior to taking off, presumably
To somewhere where no doubt it won’t be 
So easy for the artist to capture him again.

 

Suspension of Disbelief

All told, 
When they finally fall

To earth and rot,
It’s not as if all that

Hanging on was 
Definitely not 

For naught. 

Archipelago of the Aegean

of that jasmine 

from first light 
of day to night 
winding through 

narrow passage 
ways smelling 
of sea- 

girded white washed 
limestone still 
blinding white. 

Janus-Faced Plumb Cuckoo's Cogito Ergo Sum

Of all the nutty 
Scenarios that keep flashing 

Through his double’s dealing 
Mind’s eye, the one that sticks 

Out from the others like 
A sore thumb is the one where 

His alter ego’s little 
Jack Horner jamming 

A humungous middle 
Finger up the other’s 

Piebald bum, all the while 
Trumpeting “I’m the greatest 

Tweeter of all, I am, I am, 
Oh, what a titillating prize 

Plum of a cornucopian 
Fruitcake I am!” 

Curmudgeon Closing in on the Summation

In the end, 
He who is continually 
At odds with himself is close 
To knowing who his chief adversary is, 
Though never close enough 
To make a difference. 

Phantom Undertaking

Let him who is beyond 
A doubt devoid of substance 
Be the first to show us how 

Soul-cleansing the act 
Of casting shadows on white 
Washed walls can really be. 

Drawing A Blank: Returning To The Motherland, 1959

"They enter the new world naked, 
cold, uncertain of all 
save that they enter.” 
—W.C. Williams, Spring and All 

I imagined 
The village welcoming 
Ceremony would be 
Like the farewell 
Eleven years before 
When I was all of four, 
But who knows what 
That was like when 
I remembered nothing 
Of what had come before, 
Let alone my mother 
And the midwife bringing 
Me into a new world naked 
In the middle of March 
On a hard-packed earthen floor.